


Bloodmoon Jhin: Memories, Dreams, and More

by TentaChicken



Series: Bloodmoon Jhin's Tale [7]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Child Death, Multi, Theres some misc stuff here so just take warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TentaChicken/pseuds/TentaChicken
Summary: A compilation of Dreams and Memory prompts I had for my Jhin on my roleplay blog. I didn't want to post them separately so. Also a few other prompts might sneak in, those too short for a brand new post.





	1. Memory: Alone

Khada was left alone. Completely and utterly alone.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened, nor did he believe it was going to be the last. He knew that his fascinations and oddness would drive away others. Long before he donned his new name and identity and began to travel in the theater, plotting performances that would leave people weeping not from the drama, but from pain, he had sought after a companion, not too far from his own age.  
Khada normally had no one else to interact with. His parents had long gone, and his childhood friends had moved onto different interests and companions. But there was one left.

He was a good young man. You could even say at one point, they were partners in crime, with their petty teenage antics and light thievery. They had fun, but would pay dearly for their amusements.

The moon shone brightly, and Khada had taken it as a sign of good luck. His friend ushered him over, closer to the campfire that they had made within the small alcove in the trees, their usual hiding spot. He had a smile to him, his brown eyes shining with the sparks from the flame.

“I stole this, you know. It’s quite the steal.”

Khada looked over his friend’s catch, a dagger, with a bright blue stone stuck in its hilt. It was quite beautiful, no one could deny that. “It is. Quite impressive.”  
He watched his friend laugh, and finally smile. “I want you to have it, you know? It suits you.”

There was a brief moment when their hands touched, Khada felt a burn in his heart. He pocketed the gift and nodded his thank you, ignoring the feeling. It was touching; he rarely received gifts of this type. He didn’t see himself worthy of such treasures. His thanks was interrupted with a rustle of leaves, and within seconds, his friend was forced to the side, his neck against a sharp blade from another hand.

“Give me all your loot, or your friend gets it, punk!” The thief snarled. He was one of the rats that plagued the weak and poorer residents of their village. Khada was stunned, his friend was pinned down helplessly, and the thief’s eyes glinting with a wild feral energy that wouldn’t be easily tamed. Glancing at the dagger, he knew what to do.

His friend was safe.

Khada didn’t have to continue his stabbing. But he did, and with sickening pleasure he found he enjoyed every single bloodstained second of it. The thief was dead, and his friend stared at him, unable to even say a single word. The reality of the event hit him, and Khada dropped the dagger. “I had to, you know I did.”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t have to.”

There was disgust and disdain in his eyes Khada had recognized. It was too late. 

“I don’t think I want to hang around you anymore. I had my fun, but this is way beyond what I had expected.”

He turned, taking Khada’s hope with him. He was alone, again. He kicked over the dead thief, and threw down the dagger. That was the only thing valuable to him, and now no longer held any meaning. He looked at the dying campfire, and stepped on the embers to extinguish the flame.

People were burdens; there was no point to having anyone around. 


	2. Memory: Danger

Getting caught was the least of his worries; the performance was all that mattered. Jhin breathed heavily, his brush strokes lining the corpse in front of him with streaks of crimson red. He had done it, he had committed quite the masterpiece. He had taken out the most dangerous and elite of assassins sent out to kill him, and in the dead of night lined them up in a bloody composition as a warning to others who would dare try to lock him up.

It was a mistake, to some extent. He was being too cocky with his newfound powers, the spirits of the Bloodmoon blessing him with strength and possible immortality, yet cursing him at the same time. His hatred and anger took a hold of him, and he had begun to see how far his abilities could take him.

It attracted the most dangerous of foes Jhin would have to fight against.

He was not only skilled in battle, but cunning with magic as well. Jhin’s bullets and claws could do so much to a man who matched him with his skill. He had a seething anger in his heart, and Jhin finally overpowered him with that vulnerability.

“I can see… monsters can be made to fear as well.” The man said, head down kneeling before him. Jhin scoffed, his mask on the floor and his face fully visible. It seemed as if the demon could be scarred, as a long ugly wound tore into the right side of his face. “The blade is poisoned, that won’t heal anytime quick.”

“I was already ugly before, this is nothing.” Jhin said quickly, his foot on the man’s head, preparing to crush it and destroy the breath that lived within. “You, although. I must commend your efforts in trying to take me down.”

“You were cocky, Khada. It was what led you to lower your guard.”

Jhin hissed and pressed his foot down harder. “We do not speak of that name. It is filthy, defiled and gone.”

“You’ve abandoned it, but you cannot run from your past, Khada. No one can.” 

“Silence.” Jhin snarled, leaning downwards to the man. “You have been beaten, and you are going to die.”

The man laughed. “I may have failed, but perhaps my successor will have a chance at taking you down, demon.”

Jhin had heard enough. He did not even bother clean up the remains of crushed skull and brain matter that stained his foot as he left. He had his fill of danger for a while, and needed to rest. Someone else was to come after him? Well, he was going to be ready for him, whoever it may be.


	3. Memory: Relaxed & Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are short so I'm posting them together.

It was vague. Perhaps it was not even real, but in fact a dream. Being safe and relaxed did not come naturally to him, but for once, he felt it. It was good, for once.

He was lying next to someone, he did not recognize who. Jhin felt himself holding the other person like a close friend, or perhaps a lover. He could close his eyes, and feel safety, and security. It was so rare that such feeling was uninterrupted by something terrible.

Just as Jhin finished reminiscing about the feelings of warmth, he felt another presence; this one was  _stupid_  and grated on his nerves. There went his memories of feeling good, now he just felt… annoyed. How disappointing. He went off, looking around in a paranoid frenzy to see if any invisible  _bastards_  were watching him.

 

* * *

 

His previous mask held many memories. Khada knew though, it was time for a new one.

He had designed it himself, it’s horns and twisted fangs depicting what he felt what truly represented him now. Khada smiled as he held the newly made mask in his clawed fingers, and he pressed it against his face and felt relief as it fit perfectly. Perfect.

“You sure no one has seen you make it?” Jhin asked the man who stood next to him, adjusting his hood to fit the mask. The man nodded, the bags under his eyes sagging from lack of sleep.

“Yes, I’m sure sir. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do like it. You sure are quite the artist, and I applaud you.” Jhin peered at a small mirror the other man held up for him, and he couldn’t help but grin. It helped him to feel more comfortable, more apt to this new body of his. “I think you should be well rewarded.”

The man nodded, and smiled a sad smile. “They won’t let me go, but if I saw them die before my eyes first, I think I could manage passing on.”

Jhin nodded. Such a tragedy that struck his fellow artists, with corrupt and powerful people thinking they were so strong. In the end, they were all mortals, squabbling like small birds fighting over worms, unaware of a panther that peered at them from the shadows. “I will take care of them. Make sure to be on time to the performance tomorrow.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.”

The man bowed Jhin out of his shop, and smiled, and Jhin walked by two tall men, both dressed like law enforcement. For once, they did not seem to care about him, but rather entered the store he had just left. It did not matter. There was no fight, no noise. Both Jhin and the shop owner knew that everything would play out perfectly in the end.

And it did. The performance, like always, was a success.


	4. Memory: Revenge

Khada had planned this moment for months, now. It was day for revenge. He had never stopped thinking about the day his friend had parted ways just after Khada had saved his life, just because he had committed a murder. He was going to pay for leaving him, abandoning him when he was most in need, and he was going to make him pay.

His friend’s thieving days had been over. He had moved on, and became a respectable member of society. He had gotten a wife, had children, a life of his own, and  _yet_  he was still unhappy. Khada had seethed with rage when he found out. That ungrateful liar! He denounced his childhood days, he had  _denounced_  him, just to be ungrateful. The fury fueled him more than anything else.

Turns out, his friend was quite the slut as well. He had frequented nights at shady bars in town, mingling with others a bit too closely than his wife would have probably liked. Khada had contemplated many things, from blackmail to public embarrassment, but found another way to make things more  _personal._

Perhaps it was also a lingering note of affection for his former friend. A sickening bruise on his mind that refused to go away. Khada seduced him, and he brought Khada into his home. He informed his to be lover than his wife was away for the night, and Khada smiled innocently. He then unknowingly slept with his former friend that he had abandoned those years ago. After their session of one-sided passion, Khada revealed to him a familiar object from their pasts: the blade, it’s blue stone still sparkling after all these years.

It was then he realised who Khada truly was. No amount of begging, pleading,  _fearful apologies_  could save him from what he feared. Khada revealed to him that he was also the “Golden Demon”, the one that had terrorized all over Ionia. His former friend begged for forgiveness, confessing that he had been a scared child, and that  _he too_  felt for Khada has he did… or once did. A few slices into those lying lips silenced him, and Khada finished him off with a few more artistic gashes into that still sweaty body of his.

His revenge was complete, Khada could finally rest easy. His maniacal smile wider than it had ever been in the past years. No kill had thrilled him, had  _satisfied_  him more than this one. It was now to deal with the body. After piecing it apart into manageable pieces, and displayed them on the bed in a quite obscene manner, and fled the scene before his wife could return from her absence. 

It was no shock that a few days after the crime, his wife was also found murdered, and their children strangled in their beds, with their blood splattered gruesomely on the walls. Yet another work of the crazed “Golden Demon”, and Khada could finally relax, leaving town for a place far away, to continue his art.


	5. What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Context: After finding out Viktor had a child and that it had been brutally murdered, and taken against Viktor's wishes, Jhin is on a mission to retrieve it.

Jhin was curious, it was always the curiosity that did him in.

He couldn’t resist a small… peek inside the coffin. What he saw shook him to the core.

It was Kano all over again, the ruins, the mess, the damage… it was history repeating itself. 

Such a darling too. It would have been cute, nicely chubby with it’s adorable small fangs… yet it had such a face, it resembled Viktor. Jhin felt something stir deep inside. A small purr. He held the corpse in his hands, and felt, for the first time in years, perhaps, wetness spill down his cheeks. 

He didn’t even hide it. Jhin pressed his bare face against the cold body, so small and frail. Such cruelty, such disgusting vile actions. True, it was an abomination, but wasn’t everything? Humanity, animals, beasts all alike? Everything was an abomination in one way or another.

It was ironic. Jhin still had the other in his pocket. He had planned to show Jayce, rub it in, but alas. Jayce had beat him to it. Jhin removed the small rotten thing from his pocket, and scowled. It was  _nothing_  compared to what he held in his hands now. What he did was much worse… as Viktor asked Jhin to remove his.

But he was better than Jayce.

Jhin placed the small wrinkled object into the coffin, and closed it. He didn’t need the box anymore. He could just… hold it. In his arms. Cover it up, hide it away from direct view. Even he couldn’t bear look at it for too long.

He left the coffin there. It lay next to a tree, a place where no one would ever think of finding it. Or if they did, they probably would not know what lay inside. It did not matter to Jhin anymore.

With a deep sigh, Jhin caressed his deceased child once more. He concealed it with the cloth, covering it’s ruined face, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he would be at Viktor’s, hopefully. He was up to talking. Who knew anymore. Jhin certainly didn’t.


	6. Dream: Heart

Such a strange dream.

Jhin was sitting in a pool of water, and for once it wasn’t red. It was clear. He felt strangely at peace. He lifted his hand, and found water dripping from his claws, and focused on the ripples spreading on the water. 

He was suddenly aware of something else floating in the water. Jhin blinked, and saw they were blossoms, petals not yet opened. He had a sudden urge to prod at the flowers, and placed a single finger on the flower. It opened slowly, revealing something fleshy and red. It was a human heart, and it was beating.

Jhin realized that he was reaching for the heart before he was aware of the action. He held it in his fingers, his skin stained with red. It was now that he knew he was human. A strange sensation enveloped his mind, a sense of fear. But as he continued to stare at the heart, turning it slowly in his hand, looking at how the flesh and veins ran down the organ, admiring how beautiful it was.

Finally, Jhin didn’t feel scared anymore. Something about the beating heart comforted him. It was a belief that as long as the heart stayed beating, no bad things could happen while he was there. Strange, but true.

Dream abruptly ends.


	7. Dream: Nightmare

It was the usual one.

Jhin stared at the bloodied mass in front of him, shaking. When he opened his eyes, it always seemed to be staring at the dark mutilated corpse in front of him. The cold sensation of bile running down his fingers disgusted him, and he knew that he was crying from the wetness trailing down his cheeks. 

He knew what was going to come after, and he dreaded it. The mass began to move, twitching slightly. The cursed gurgled noise that Jhin was so used to now, erupted in his mind as torrents of blood came forth from where the neck of the person used to lie. 

_“…I thought you learned. You did it again.”_

“No.” Jhin managed, his breathing erratic and gasping furiously. His fear was amplified by the fact the bloodied mass seemed to spread, moving onto his own arms and his kneeling legs.

_“Again. You deny it.”_

Jhin couldn’t respond, the flesh slowly crawling over him, starting to consume him. He couldn’t move, even if he wanted to. It spoke again, more blood flooding everything.  _“You’re a coward. You wanted to become better.”_

He couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know anything. Nothing that happened was something I wanted…”

The mass was on his face now, dripping into his mouth. It was the taste of bitterness, sharp tang of metal along with blood.  _“No. It wasn’t your fault. But you are still not being honest.”_ Jhin was crying profusely, as his vision filled with red, then darkness.

Kano was right. He was still guilty. He wasn’t being honest. When he would wake, he would feel the remnants of the dream, but it would wash away into his subconscious, and he would forget, something that Jhin was very good at.


	8. Dream: Dagger

Jhin was watching the scene from above. He was an observer.

Shaco seemed to be devastated. He was seen crying, going about his day as if he was in misery. Jhin felt odd. He knew he was supposed to be sad, it seemed as if his dream self was lacking in his sense of sympathy. He did still care about the jester, even if he wanted not to. It was a curse that lingered in his mind, and he was aware of it.

However, he didn’t except what to feel when he saw someone approach Shaco, and embrace him tightly. Shaco was still sobbing, but his sorrow was diminished. Was this a feeling of anger? Jhin wanted to go to the person, and strangle him. What was he doing here? Where did this anger suddenly come from?

The figure turned it’s face, and Jhin’s anger was replaced with dread.  _Oh._

He didn’t expect this. Jhin didn’t expect the feeling that filled him. He wanted to run, but he was forced to watch the scene. How was  _he_  there? This was impossible. It was. However, it was happening, still there. Shaco let out a laugh, and it echoed in Jhin’s mind, making him relive that night he had one of his greatest performances.

The man smiled, and he held a small dagger in his hand, the same dagger that ended his life. A gift. Jhin gritted his teeth.  _His gift._  Shaco took it, and they both seemed to turn, identically and directing their vision directly  _to him_. Feeling their gaze seemed to diminish all anger and dread. It was empty, shockingly devoid of any emotion. Jhin felt like he had given up.

When Jhin waked, he found himself gripping the ground with his clawed fingers. It took several minutes, but the dream seemed to be fading. Fading. Who was that man anyway? Jhin didn’t remember anymore. 

It didn’t really matter, it was just a dream after all.


	9. Dream: Blossoms

Strange dream.

Jhin opened his eyes and saw the cherry blossoms falling from the trees. It was quite the sight. It was gorgeous, the fluttering of the petals in the short time they were in bloom. He couldn’t resist sticking his hand out, and catching one, looking closely at the soft pinkness. His hand, it was made of human flesh. He was human again.

He continued to walk down the path, his footsteps crushing the soft pink petals that covered the ground. There was a feeling of nostalgia in the air, perhaps hope and the like. It was then he saw a figure ahead of him, wearing a long robe, akin to a kimono.

Kayn. What was he doing here? Suddenly Jhin remembered. Yes, they were to meet here. He was to enjoy the cherry blossoms with him, and enjoy the peace and quiet of the outside. Jhin had overworked himself, and Kayn had suggested a break. A moments rest, to enjoy the flowers before they died.

They approached each other in silence. Jhin noticed Kayn without his usual scythe next to him, his clawed hand reaching out for his. Jhin responded, and accepted the hand. They turned to gaze at the flowers again, but not before a strange sound interrupted them. Gunshots, a lot of them.

Kayn was gone when Jhin turned. He was alone again, the petals vanishing from the air. The trees were barren, and the sky had grayed. His moment of peace was broken, and Jhin looked at his hand to find it was bleeding. Kayn’s claws had cut into it, but he didn’t feel it.

Seeing the blood sent a strange feeling down his spine. Whatever it was, Jhin didn’t like it. He closed his hand, trying to stop the flow of blood, but couldn’t. He could hear the wind, howling his name, in that oh so familiar cry. But Jhin didn’t care. He was suddenly tired of everything, tired of bleeding. He wanted to leave.

Ignoring the howling pleading of the wind, Jhin walked off, his hair blowing through the wind. As he did, he felt the atmosphere get colder, invisible hands trying to grab at him to prevent him from leaving. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, determined to leave. And finally, he did. Jhin found himself, eyes open and lying in his ever familiar spot in the forest, unsure of what he had just dreamed about.

Whatever it was, Jhin quickly forgot it.


	10. Memory: More Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title implies this is connected to the previous chapter titled "Revenge".

His performance was finally done. Khada brushed away some lingering droplets of blood on his lips with his fingers, only to find they had been drenched with the man’s stinking blood as well and only managed to smear more blood across his lips. How disgraceful. He could taste it and the rancid tang of the vile liquid annoyed him. Curling his lips with distaste, Khada made his way to the sink and quickly washed off the stench and looked up to stare at the cracked mirror.

The broken reflection stared back at him, with cold eyes he had long grown accustomed to seeing. Perhaps it was due to the dingy lighting and location, but the face that blinked back seemed imperfect, with cold and clammy skin and darkened circles arching under the eyes. He thought nothing of it. What an awful mirror to show him such a flawed vision of himself. But what did he expect from a house like this? The man surely didn’t care of his wife enough to purchase another mirror. Perhaps he thought she was too ugly to make use of it. Grabbing a towel to dry his face and hands, he stepped back into the light of the room and gazed upon his creation.

Khada didn’t need to look again upon the bent limbs, twisted in a way they were not ever meant to be. How the fractured body had been specifically placed in an order, to make it as offensive to the normal human eye as it could be. Even to his eyes, which drew beauty from carnage like this, the creation was disgusting. He had relished in this piece yes, but it was deeply flawed due to the nature of the victim he had chosen for it. Even Khada’s own genius and artistic talent couldn’t make the corpse that lay on the blood and viscera stained bed beautiful.

He was due to leave in a few more minutes. It would be much too risky to linger any longer, as the sun was beginning to crawl down the mountains to announce the end of the day. With a heavy sigh, Khada made sure the scene was perfect. It would only take a few hours after he left for his wife to return, only to shriek in horror as she stumbled upon his work. Packing up his things, he waved goodbye to the corpse, as if it could respond. It was a sadistic gesture on his part, and he relished in it.

It took him exactly three minutes to leave the house. Every step he took, he made sure not to appear rushed or hurried, as it would arouse suspicion. Every casual glance or look, he had to make sure it looked natural. Even the slightest of worried looks would out him as a suspect in the soon to be discovered crime. Luckily, Khada made it to the street, with time to spare. It was crucial to lay low for a while, before executing the next part of his plan.

But then, he saw her. She was walking down the street, cruising through the market as if nothing was wrong. Basket in hand, she was gently touching each apple in a basket, finally picking one and placing it in her basket. Her hands her fair and her skin light, and her face all too familiar. The ring on her finger confirmed it all, she was loyal to her husband, but the weight of his distance these days clearly showed on her face. This threw Khada’s plan for a loop.

However, in the moment he was inspired. There was a small elderly woman selling flowers. Pulling out his spare coins from his pocket, Khada plucked the most brilliant orange rose from the selection. What he was doing was risky yes, but it was part of the excitement. Danger ultimately excited him. He approached the now widow (though she was unaware of that fact), and tapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes appeared to threaten wetness at any moment. “You seem somewhat glum dear. Here is a flower to brighten up your day.”

The effect was almost instantaneous. Surprise, hesitation, curiosity then gratitude. She smiled, and with the effort it took her implied she hadn’t smiled in a while. “Thank you, dear stranger. Your kindness is very appreciated.” She placed the rose in her basket, and bowed in thanks, and they parted ways, heading off in opposite directions never to be seen again. Or so she thought.

Khada heard the news from where he was hiding that day. A wife now a widow, stricken with grief and two now fatherless children. The town was on edge, on look out for a horrible and evil murderer, but continued to gossip over the event.  _How could someone do something so horrible like this? Ah, but they said he had been cheating for weeks… this time was in his own home! That’s so horrible, he was a father… what will the children think? The wife, she’s so grief stricken… Bah, he was an awful creature. I’m sure the man over there holding her close would be a better husband than he could ever be._

“I’m so sorry for your loss, dear.” Those were the only words Khada uttered before she held him close and wept into his arms. Attending the funeral, even though the whole town was on alert for the murderer was an exceptionally risky action, but he knew his act was good enough. She cried, her heart shattered by an evil man who was never satisfied. Khada knew this better than anybody.

The next thing he knew was he was back at the home, with the widow pouring him a cup of tea. How things were so easy for him, how awfully simple it was to gain a person’s trust. The children were playing in the living room, oblivious to the fact their father was never going to come home again. They were much too young to comprehend the events at hand.

Khada would have made an ideal husband. He spun comforting words to the woman, his voice like silk ensnaring her like a spider’s web. He helped tuck in the children in bed, spent a few precious hours with the woman in the living room before she fell asleep, tears still staining her beautiful face. Her husband had been so ungrateful, oh how far Khada would have gone in the past to exchange roles with him.

But now, it was too late. He was married to his art now.

She was found murdered, his kill complimenting her beauty and making sure to showcase it in the scene. How tragic it was that she wasn’t appreciated in life, and thus had to be in death. The children, innocent yet  _his_  spawn, were not given the same treatment and were strangled in their beds, finally able to rest for eternity. They would not have to suffer their father’s consequences no longer. The Golden Demon had struck again, and four kills were enough for Khada to finally leave the town, as it would be much too dangerous to linger for much longer.

His performance was complete, but his work, his love for his art, would go on.


End file.
